Form, Function and Invention

I've come to believe that my mind has a mind of its own. This is just something I caught it thinking about...


A while back over at LinkedIn Dutch designer André van der Saag asked this question:

Great designers often say that form follows function. What happens when function follows form?

On first scan this looks like one of those pseudo-Zen conundrums people often present at parties, usually around the time the wine starts running low. But for some reason I couldn't quite dismiss it, so of course I started thinking about it and oddly enough came to see it not only as a legitimate question, but one with a startlingly simple answer.

What happens when function follows form? Invention.

A not-so-obvious connection, for sure, so let me explain how I got there. Please bear with me -- I've tried to be as linear as I can, but you know how these things can turn on you.

OK. Here we go. The idea that form follows function is a loose version of William Morris's assertion that art should serve need and there should be no differentiation between form and function. But this definition has its basis in the idea that function must drive creation, which is the toolmaker's view. For an object to satisfy a need its form must address that need, and any object whose form is directed otherwise or occurs spontaneously is just sort of in the way, unless it's somehow pleasing to look at. But in being pleasing to look at the object is still satisfying a need, so even for objects d'art form follows function. The dependency seems to be immutable, inescapable.

But the fact is we are surrounded by examples where function follows form. One that comes immediately to mind is the screwdriver, a tool whose form was originally driven by the need to amplify and transmit torque. The need to improve the twisting power of the human wrist drove not only the screwdriver's form but also that of the fasteners to be installed with it, and the form was so well-defined by the need that by now pretty much everyone knows a screwdriver is for loosening or tightening screws, to hang a cupboard door for instance, or who knows what else.

But I also believe that pretty much everybody knows a screwdriver is excellent for opening cans of paint too, and can even be used to stir the paint once the can is opened, even though neither of these functions were even considered when the tool was originally designed. In fact, if you want the inside scoop on exactly what a screwdriver was designed for just ask any well-trained machinist if you can borrow one to open some paint cans. Instead of a screwdriver you'll get seriously schooled in the orthodoxy of function-driven form, that there's a right tool for every job and each tool has its own purpose that you'd better learn to respect if you don't want to get tossed out of the shop.

But even the absolute power of the Orthodoxy of Tools can't change the fact that screwdrivers open cans of paint like a dream, and that simple truth is the crack in Mr. Morris's seemingly immutable idea. These other unorthodox ways to use a screwdriver were discovered after its form was already defined and fixed; they became part of what the tool can do when it was moved out of its design context and the new functions had to follow the already fixed form. See?

So to sum up:

The ability to remove an object from its orthodoxy and expand its definition while leaving its form unchanged is a key part of the process of invention. Therefore whenever function is allowed to follow form, invention must be happening.

Simple, yes? I thought you'd agree :)


OK. I'm done.

Peace,
Robert